Enough to go around

by Dream Big

Sometimes life takes everything from you. Sometimes, it gives you more than you ever dreamed.

Sometimes life takes everything from you. Sometimes, it gives you more than you ever dreamed.

I spent most of my twenties like many gay guys do: mostly fucking around. In a medium-sized city, within an even smaller gay community, you quickly discover that everyone in the dating pool is only two or three degrees away, so if you go all slutty for a couple of years, you basically become everyone’s ex, or their friend’s ex.

In my defense, none of it was ill-intended. I was young and dumb and full of cum, as they say. I wasn’t even that hot. I was just easy. And I didn’t want to take anything seriously or get tied down. I know, stupid, but hey, it comes with all that spunky energy.

It lasted until a really good guy came along and suddenly the one-night stands or occasional fuck buddy didn’t cut it anymore. Kevin was my everything. And suddenly I was off the market—not because he forbade it or got jealous, but because I suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere else. We had about five years together.

They weren’t perfect years, but they were as close as it gets. We were really good together, and everyone knew it and approved.

And then he got hit by a drunk driver.

I was a wreck for nearly as long after his death as we were together. And though I eventually shook the depression and got my life back, I had all but given up on trying to find anyone after that. Once you’ve had the best, it’s hard to settle, you know? But if I’m honest, I stopped looking.

Time passed and before I knew it, I was staring at 40, and dreading the evening of birthday hijinks my friends had lined up. I hadn’t been out to the clubs in a decade, and they’d decided I needed to go “out with a capital O”. And I said yes, because, well, it had been five years since Kevin. But I was long out of practice and feeling decidedly midlife-crisis-prone.

“Jeff, I’m telling you, you will have fun and cut loose tonight—even if I have to pour a handle of vodka down your throat with my own two hands!”

“I’m not that pathetic,” I replied.

“Sigh…you’re not an old man for another 36 hours, so enjoy it while you’re young!” Xavier as usual with the drama. A few years younger than me (and annoyingly, looking more like 27 than 37), Xavier still managed to live basically the same lifestyle for 15 years, seemingly without suffering any real consequences. We were convinced he had a painting in the attic.

“He’s right though, you have been a boring old fussbudget,” Ben said. He was usually the more level-headed of my posse, but he’d hit forty a few months prior and was determined to live out some very stereotypical midlife crisis moments as he valiantly scrambled to hold on to the memory of not being middle-aged.

“I’m not a fussbudget,” I moaned. “Who even says that anymore? Charlie Brown?”

“I’m just saying, Jeff, you don’t look washed up. You’re a catch, man! Still got all your hair, you’re in okay shape, you have a good job, and you have an actual personality! “

“Wow, you suck at flattery,” I said.

The plan was this: we’d go to the club and just drink and dance all night. Catch an Uber back home late, sleep in, and do brunch at Maestro’s whenever we woke up on Sunday.

It’s a fact that gay clubs have changed over the years; they’re no longer the same beating heart of gay urban life that they once were. I could say a lot about why that is—but I chalk a lot up to more tolerance generally, and more app options, which means that the younger generation don’t need that space quite so desperately.

Still, a good DJ and a good vibe meant clubs like Danny’s kept the spirit alive (at least until the owners were ready to retire), and pride month meant busines that, at least on that particular Saturday night, was booming. We breezed past the ID check, had a drink or two at the main bar (and another when news of my birthday somehow leaked, thanks to the friendly bartender—we had a little history). Then we were hauled out to the dance floor, full of writhing bodies, music, and booze.

The music was very good and it had been eons, so almost despite myself, I was actually cutting loose. When I came out of my dance trance, Ben and Xavier were over by the bar laughing, and I found myself right next to a very cute twunk.

“Hey sexy! I’m Nicky, what’s your name?”

Big brown eyes are my weakness. “Uh… Jeff?”

“Well, uh, Jeff,” he purred, “are you here with anyone?”

“Just friends,” I stammered.

“The two guys over there?”

“Yeah,” I said. The two friends in question were grinning like loons and giving thumbs-up signs by the bar.

“Great! That means you’re all mine! If you want to be, I mean—”

I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. It’d been years since I’d been hit on so aggressively.

“Jeff, if it isn’t clear, I’m telling you I think you’re hot, and I think I would like to spend the evening with you. Are you up for that?”

“You know what? Sure. Just one question. Why me, when this place is full of hot young guys?”

He shrugged. “Just a vibe. You’re handsome and you seem nice, and I want to see if we click.”

“Fair,” I said.

“This is the part where you tell me I’m cute.”

“You’re adorable.”

Ben and Xavier seemed happy to keep their distance, occasionally meeting my frantic gaze with broad smiles and raised glasses. Meanwhile, I did my best to remember how to flirt and wrestled with the idea that the sexy guy dancing with me was actually into me. Nicky danced tirelessly and enthusiastically, and when he saw my energy flagging, suggested we find a table and grab a fresh drink.

Nicky was partly Greek, and had messy dark hair and flawless olive skin, as well as those big expressive brown eyes. He had the build of a swimmer—big shoulders and a trim midsection—and worked in a lab, presumably as a technician. He was fit but not overly bulky, and he smelled nice. He admitted to 31, and I believed him. He played a little piano for fun, and kept himself fit at the gym near work. I hadn’t seen him around because, well, I didn’t go out.

I, however, was hurtling toward middle age and sported a burgeoning dad bod, thanks to the post-Kevin slump I’d been in. I’d let myself go, but objectively it wasn’t too bad yet. My dark gold blond hair seemed secure enough and I had at least wound up with a moderately stylish haircut. Most folks thought my blue eyes were my best feature. Nicky seemed to like my bit of scruffy stubble (always risky when you’re fair-haired). When I showed him an old photo from my clubbing days, he chuckled and told me I made a cute twink, but he preferred handsome over cute.

Two things became clear pretty quickly. One, he was more than just a very pretty face—he was educated and had opinions about things. And two, he was very direct and straightforward, and not just in his flirting.

“I’ve always been like this,” he shrugged amiably. “I see a goal and I go for it. Half the fun is figuring out how to get there!”

I was so engrossed in the conversation that it was a surprise when Ben finally came round, asking if I needed a ride home. The club was closing up soon. I didn’t want the night to end, but I could see my boys—who I’d pretty much ignored—were done for now.

“Why don’t we hit the diner,” I said. And so we all found ourselves crammed into the all-night diner’s back booth where Nicky charmed them too, well aware he was being assessed. And he didn’t disappoint.

Eventually, Nicky got up to pee and my friends pounced. “Damn, Jeff, you certainly haven’t lost your touch! That boy… damn!” (That was Xavier, obviously.)

“I’m with him on this one, mostly. He’s a catch. And so, I’m going to drag this reprobate away so you can finally get some action. Just text us about brunch tomorrow morning.”

I was about to protest, but he cut me off. “Dude, that boy wants you. You are clearly having a good time. Just roll with it!”

And so, when Nicky came back from the restroom, he found me alone waiting.

“The boys left you here all alone with me, didn’t they?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

“More than okay. Because now I can finally do this,” he said, sliding in next to me and cradling my face with his long-fingered hands. “I have wanted to kiss you all night, and I’m going to now, if you’re up for it.”

I nodded stupidly.

You ever have a kiss so good, just the memory of it is enough to give you a boner?

This was one of those. I found myself leaning in and returning it almost immediately, and I knew with long-forgotten certainty how the rest of the night would go. We could barely slow down, even after the Uber driver firmly reminded us that he drove his kids around in that car.

Back at my place—which I must emphasize had not been tidied in expectation of company—we wasted no time. There were no awkward moments, just a rising tide of passion that carried us both. (Luckily he had some condoms; mine were old enough to be suspect.)

We were late to brunch, even by gay standards.

“And what time do you call this, young man? It’s well past curfew!” Xavier said loudly.

“Be warned, they have bottomless mimosas,” Ben said.

“And topless ones too. I hope those lonely boys find their match,” Xavier said happily, finishing what was obviously not his first glass.

“Better order and get some food into you,” Ben said. “Looks like you’re running a calorie deficit. I wonder why?”

“It’s been a while since I, uh, went dancing all night,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Plus, we fucked for a few hours after we got back to his place,” Nicky said, matter-of-factly. “What’s good here?”

I think my blush was audible. But it was worth it for the look on their faces. Especially Xavier, who inadvertently snorted half a flute of mimosa.

Over brunch we caught up, and watching Nicky effortlessly manage two gossip-starved besties was way too much fun.

And so, assured of their approval, Nicky asked me if I was free anytime that week.

Damn right I was.

And that week turned into several times. In the month or so that followed, we spent most of our free time together, and quite a lot of that was having sex, which was a bit of a shock to my system. I’d always been verse, but he tended to bring out the top in me, which was refreshing. He returned the favor often enough to keep me content. Anyway, at 40, there was only so much of me to go around—two loads was about the most I’d manage before that middle-aged refractory period kicked in. But he seemed happy enough, and it was a really lovely change for me after five years of “self care”.

Looking back, there were some signs I overlooked. First was that we always met up at my place; he claimed his place was simply too small for anything other than sleep. The second came later.

About two months into our relationship, Nicky told me he had been assigned a big project and it was going to keep him super busy.

“It’s going to be brutal. I probably won’t see you as much for a while.”

“Well, text me,” I said, kissing him goodbye.

“Bet on it,” he said.

And sure enough, that very night, he texted me. So it was a surprise when I got a text from an unknown number the very next night.

UNKNOWN SENDER: Hey, sexy.

ME: Who is this?

In response I got a half-naked photo—of someone I was now intimately familiar with..

ME: what the hell babes

UNKOWN SENDER: sending from my old burner phone. Can’t bring mine in because of the camera. Picked up a burner, so I may text you from this one occasionally.

He never talked too much about work, but I gathered his lab had some IP to protect or some government contract. I was more surprised he had found a burner phone with no camera.

NICKY 2: fuck it, I can’t wait, I’m coming over.

ME: aren’t you still slammed?

NICKY 2: couldn’t wait. Need your dick.

Moments later there he was, waiting at my front door. And ten minutes after that, we were fucking. None of the usual preamble, just right to the sex, and without much chatter. He was being a very bossy bottom, which was kind of fun. I guess he needed stress relief.

“Sorry, I can’t stay longer tonight,” he said.

“The project?”

“Yeah, it’s really demanding. But it doesn’t leave me much mental energy. I’d rather save that for the weekend with you, when I can give you the boyfriend experience you deserve.”

“So basically when I see you during the week, you just want the stress release?”

“Yeah, basically. If you’re okay with it. It also keeps me from blabbing about work and either boring you or saying something I shouldn’t.”

I was okay with it.

And so, on it went for the next few weeks. He’d show up Tuesday and Thursday nights, after dinner, and we would have what I thought of as purely recreational sex with very little else. Then Friday night would come and he was his amazing normal self. And while it was fun, it was also starting to be physically challenging for me.

One Friday night, he showed up ready to go, but I was just wiped out. My own job had been busy all week, too, and Thursday night’s session had left me drained. So when he playfully groped me a little on the couch, I finally snapped.

“Look, I’m sorry, man, I’m just wiped. I am trying my best to keep up with your libido, but I just can’t.”

He looked crestfallen. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Because it’s pathetic. Even talking about it makes me feel old.”

“No,” he said. “It’s biology and chemistry. And I forget you’ve got a decade on me sometimes. Have you talked to a doctor?”

“No. What the hell do I say? I just had a physical last month and it all checks out fine. I even dropped a few pounds and my stamina is good. I just happened to land a very hot young boyfriend, and I just….”

“Babes, that’s the easiest problem in the world to fix.”

“I don’t have E.D.”

“No, I can attest to that. But if your libido is lagging and your t-counts are fine, unless it’s contraindicated, there are ways to boost your sex drive.”

“I hate oysters,” I replied.

“I think that’s a myth anyway,” he said, pensively. “Look, I never told you what we work on, but one of the things just hit testing, and it might help with the stamina. Provided you hit the gym a bit more, it should give you a nice boost.”

“I don’t know about drug trials,” I said.

“It’s your call, but the buzz is really high right now. The numbers look really good. And unless something is weird in your bloodwork, I bet you’d be a good candidate. Best part is, there is a side effect for about half the users—and it’s increased libido.”

It was tempting.

“I don’t want to push you either way—I won’t get mad if you need a break, I just love fucking you. Especially after the month I’ve had. I like to think our little sessions have been helping both of us. If it is bothering you, though, you may have an option.”

We ended up cuddling that night, and the next, but the seed was planted.

I hemmed and hawed for another few days, but on Tuesday, when he came round, he didn’t even ask for a decision. I figured he was back in work mode and was giving me space, and by then I was up for the full routine. Thursday was much the same, but I think he noticed my flagging energy.

“You should get a trainer and hit the gym, Jeff. Never too late, right?” And I guessed he was right. Even if I didn’t take the trial, a bit of cardio and weights could only improve my health.

Friday I was at the gym, doing an intro class that left me winded and sore…and by Saturday morning, I’d decided to give the trial a go.

The first few weeks of the trial basically did nothing for me. I popped a pill every morning, did some stretching and cardio, watched what I ate, and hoped for some miracle. Mondays I’d hit the gym, Tuesdays Nick would fuck me senseless, Wednesdays I’d hit the gym, Thursdays Nick would fuck me senseless, Friday nights I’d have dinner with Nick and usually he would head home Sunday morning, leaving me to rest on Sunday evening.

I started getting serious with the trainer. I could practically see my stamina increase every week and even saw some modest gains. Tuesdays and Thursdays no longer left me drained, and I was much perkier when Friday rolled around.

So clearly, the drugs were working. Or at least helping a bit. It was possible that my gym time was doing the heavy lifting, so to speak, for my increased stamina. Either way, I was feeling pretty good.

And then I got a text from Nicky’s burner saying he wouldn’t be around during the week, but would see me on the weekend. So when Tuesday rolled around, I found myself bored. The boys were busy, so I decided to work off the excess energy in the gym.

I did my usual workout, but like Pavlov’s dog, I was conditioned to expect a treat, and, well, I won’t say I was drooling in anticipation, but it was damned close. My dick reared up during the warm-up and refused to go down, and I only noticed it because I caught one of the other guys staring in the mirror.

Fuck, I was being obscene, and noticing it… made things worse.

Now, let’s be honest. I wasn’t super gifted, but I held my own with just shy of seven inches, and no complaints. Now it looked bigger, seeming to swell and throb a bit larger as I gaped. I quickly finished my set, discreetly covered my junk with a towel, and went to the bathroom. I was still sweaty and felt supercharged, so I locked the door and whipped out my dick, still sweating from the workout. Everything seemed sexually charged suddenly, and I felt dizzy and needy. All it took was a few strokes thinking of Nicky’s hot ass, and I blew a load that didn’t want to stop. And then, panting, I did it again.

When I exited the bathroom, the guy I’d caught staring in the mirror was waiting in the locker room, grinning. He was an older guy, probably around fifty, with salt and pepper hair and a beard, and a bearish but muscular build.

“Feel better? I was going to offer to help, but seems like you managed okay.”

My cheeks reddened, but he laughed. “Don’t fuss, bro, it happens to all of us. You have been going pretty hard out there the last few weeks, no surprise your body is reacting. Nothing in this place but testosterone, it’s bound to light a little fire now and again. But if you need help—and that thing looks like it might be a two-man job—just ask.”

I grunted a thank you and found the showers as quickly as I could.

And Thursday pretty much went the same, though I had the foresight to pound one out before I hit the gym. Salt and pepper hair wasn’t there, but I was pretty sure more eyes were on me anyway, possibly because I still had a half chub situation happening down south. Apparently my body was so used to fucking on the regular that just wouldn’t be denied release.

“Damn,” Nicky said that Friday, looking at me like a hungry dog looks at a bowl full of kibble. “Whatever you’re doing in the gym, keep doing it!”

“I think it’s those pills,” I said. “You weren’t kidding about the side effects, either. It’s been a long week and I have been hard all day thinking about you.”

“Okayyy,” he said. “Are we talking about an erection lasting more than—whoa!”

“You tell me,” I said.

“That is definitely an erection.”

“Yeah. We are three hours into that, and I’ve been saving myself for you.”

“Oh.”

“Yup. By my count if you don’t extinguish this in the next 47 minutes, I need to see a doctor…”

“I think we can say for certain that the drugs are doing something,” he said, slightly breathless after our third round.

“You think? I hit the gym four times this week, and, well, this.” I gestured down at my still not fully sated dick.

“After breakfast, I will have to measure that. It felt bigger,” he said, absently rubbing his butt.

“Maybe a little,” I said. “Or maybe it’s the fact I got rid of some of the pudge.”

“I never minded the pudge, but this is nice too,” he said, running fingers along my much trimmer midsection. “You’re getting some definition all over, too.”

“Maybe I can get abs like yours, and then sell the laundry machine.”

“Have you checked in with the trial doc this week?”

“I will on Monday,” I replied.

“Definitely mention the side effects,” he said.

“Speaking of which, breakfast can wait just little longer, can’t it?”

“Damn. Hang on, I’m going to measure this before I forget.”

Turns out I had grown, and more than a little. My penis had been 6.8 inches long, a bit above average. Now it was 7.4, and that was after three explosive rounds of

“That’s a lot,” Nicky said. “I don’t think we’ve seen these results before, but I’m not the one running the study. Definitely check with the doctor Monday, but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

We finished our bacon and eggs and I cleared up while he grabbed his things to leave. I was still partly chubbed, and made sure he felt it as we hugged goodbye.

“You gonna be busy all week again?” I asked.

“Same as the last few months, sorry.”

“Aww. I guess I’ll just hit the gym again when I miss you.”

“Sorry I haven’t texted you as much as I wanted, by the way. It’s just been busy as hell.

“I get it. See you when I see you.”

The doctor seemed very interested in the side effects, which wasn’t surprising. This might well be the holy grail of men’s drugs: performance enhancing and dick growing? No real side effects aside from increased libido?

“Either way, Jeff, I’m not exactly breaking NDA when I tell you, you are an outlier in terms of response. You look fantastic and I suspect your bloodwork is just as good.”

When Tuesday rolled around, “weekday Nicky” showed up with a big container of banana smoothie.

“Been on a smoothie kick for some reason,” he shrugged. “Figured I would make enough to share. They’re good for you!”

“Not bad, but a little gritty. What’s in them?”

“Banana, milk, ice, a little protein powder, that sort of thing. A few vitamins.”

“Maybe grid the vitamins up a bit more?”

“I will. I’m going to play with flavors, mind being my guinea pig?”

“Sure. But how do you have time to do this, with all the extra hours you have been pulling?”

“Still gotta eat, right? I put in enough time for them.”

The weeks progressed more or less normally, but I must have reached critical mass when it came to the drug. I was bursting with energy, and was hitting personal bests in the gym at least once a week. My trainer was delighted but I never mentioned the supplement—NDAs can be scary. Monday and Wednesday I hit the gym for a few hours after work, Tuesday and Thursday I fucked Nicky senseless for a few hours, and the weekends were spent as usual. I’d added a morning run or swim every day I wasn’t in the gym, too.

The results were impressive. After shaving twenty pounds of flab, I’d tightened and toned at first; now I was putting on some actual bulk. I was annoyed to find that I was creeping back toward my starting weight, but my trainer pointed out that muscle weighs more than fat, and I had packed on some muscle.

But more impressive, to Nicky’s and my mutual delight, was that my former 6.8-inch cock was now a solid 8.4 inches, and probably half again as girth as it had been. My libido had increased along with my stamina, too. I needed release 3-4 times every single day, and that meant I was masturbating daily just to take the edge off.

It never occurred to me, or to Nicky, that I might be getting more of the drug than I was supposed to.

Things progressed like that for another few weeks, and my spiked system was becoming increasingly obvious. I was a good twenty pounds heavier than I’d been at my chubbiest, but now it was all brawn; I looked like an athlete. I filled shirts out in a way I found nearly as pleasing as Nicky did, and while I didn’t have his ridiculous abs, my shoulders and arms and pecs made up for it. My trainer was busier than ever, largely because of how buff i had become in the last few months, but she took good care of me, despite being clueless about the X-factor in my progress.

On the home front, the libido was becoming a real issue, with a minimum four wanks a day to keep me sated. Nicky still made time on the weekends, but begged off on more weekday fun because of his workload. There weren’t enough hours in the day.

The dick thing was getting out of hand—or should I say hands, plural—as well. I’d up to just shy of ten inches, and it wasn’t a difficult measurement to get because I was hard so damned often. A nuisance, really—right up until I was fucking Nicky every Tuesday and Thursday night, or we were fucking each other on the weekends, or I was wanking every morning….

And then, suddenly, the other shoe dropped.

See, that big project Nicky’s been working on? It finally slowed down for a bit, and he’d gone in Tuesday and been told to take the week off after months of overwork. And he decided to swing by my place to surprise me.

Trouble was, when he showed up and let himself in, I was balls deep in my lover already.

My lover Nicky, who I’d just filled with a quart of boy batter.

“Son of a bitch!”

I swung around, most of my dick still lodged in Nicky’s ass, and gaped. It must have been one of the world’s weirdest double-takes. How could I be fucking my boyfriend, when he had just walked in the door and stood there staring at us?

“Aw, fuck,” the man I was currently buried in said. “Nicky, I’m sorry, he had no idea….”

“Dammit, Dimitri!”

“What the hell is going on here?!”

Once I’d extracted myself awkwardly from Dimitri, I demanded answers.

“It’s simple enough. Dimitri and I are identical twins. Like, really identical twins. And he likes to take pranks too fucking far!”

“What the Kentucky-fried bullshit soap opera crap is this?”

“I’m the evil twin,” Dimitri said.

“Obviously.”

Dimitri seemed a little chagrined, but Nicky was beyond angry.

“How long have I been fucking you?” I asked Dimitri.

“Every Tuesday and Thursday since his project ramped up,” Dimitri admitted.

“Twice a week????”

“At least.”

“Fuck! How did I not realize?”

“Dude, we’re practical clones of each other. We dress the same and use the same shampoo and soap. We even live in the same house.”

“That’s why I never brought you to my place. That and my brother is a fucking slob.”

“But you never even mentioned you had a brother, much less a twin!”

“After the third time your date tries to fulfill his twincest fantasy with you, you learn to avoid the subject.” Nicky sat down angrily. “I had planned to introduce you once this project was wrapped.”

“And you,” I narrowed my eyes at Dimitri, “you lied to me.”

“Of course I did! Look how you’re reacting! “

I pulled on some long boxers and tried to ignore the thick squash creeping down my leg, for now while Dimitri fessed up.

“For two months, it was nonstop Jeff this and Jeff that. He bragged about you but refused to introduce us. So when he was busy, I decided to pull a classic prank, and pretend to be Nicky. And it worked, but also backfired.”

“How?”

“Simple. I discovered on top of everything else, Nick and I share taste in men. And I got hooked on your dick, bro.”

Okay, nice compliment, I guess? I blushed a little.

“You’re why he was so worn out that first month.”

“Seriously? I went from a five-year drought to basically every other day. Multiple times a day. And I kept trying to figure out where you got the energy, when you were all in at work.”

“I bet you both chalked it up to being 40, didn’t you?” Dimitri was too smug for his own good.

“Well, yeah!”

“Babe, we are both 31. None of us are kids in our teens or twenties anymore. You kept up just fine when it was just me, but I was saving for the weekend. And in case you forgot, we were going at it pretty good. Multiple times a day. Plenty to keep me happy, before my brother started wearing you out all week,” Nicky said.

“Yup. But that worked out, because you got him on your top-secret booster trials, right? And that shit worked.”

“That’s an understatement,” I grumbled.

“Nicky, he was too fucking fine to quit, and he keeps getting better. And I may have caught some feels, too,” he admitted. “My plan was just to keep having sex with him, and it was kind of a turn on too, pretending to be you, always scared of being found out.”

“You risked my relationship with Jeff just for kinks?”

“I never meant it to go beyond one time,” he said, looking at least a little guilty. “But I got in over my head. I didn’t want to stop, especially once he got on the trials. There just wasn’t enough of him to go around, even with your booster flowing through his veins.”

“Oh, shit. What did you do, Dimitri?”

“I’ve always been good at pretending to be you, and I’ve been to your lab. It was a little too easy to show up with your badge and your password was easy to guess, at least for me. So while you were here one weekend, I helped myself to the samples.”

“You’ve been dosing him?”

“I almost chickened out. I took a whole week off, deciding whether to go through with it. I ground them up and put them in a smoothie, but when I saw Jeff again I had to try it.”

“Fuck, Dimitri, that’s so irresponsible! You could have hurt him! It’s a trial for god’s sake.”

“Yeah, a successful one. And don’t forget, man, you’re not the only smart one in the family. I spent two whole days pouring over the notes. There are other guys on other dosages. And it hardly seems to have done him any harm!”

“That’s not the point and you know it. It’s a betrayal of trust.”

“You should have asked,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dimitri said. “But my brain wasn’t calling the shots. Getting ploughed by you six times a week, while you thought I was him? It was just too damned hot.”

“This is exactly why I never introduced you. You just can’t resist playing your little games. Can’t let me have anything without trying it on for yourself.”

They went back and forth for a bit, and the dynamic was becoming clearer. Nicky was the responsible twin, the steady boyfriend type, the strait-laced one who had won my affection. Dimitri was mischievous and reckless, but he was clever and charming too. It was like they started with the same basic set of traits, and then diverged over the years, with the twinkle in Nicky’s eye being ratcheted up as Dimitri’s defining trait.

But goddamn, they really were identical. Even up close I could barely tell them apart, and I’d been extremely intimate with both of them. But now that Dimitri wasn’t playing his brother, I could see differences—in speech patterns, body language, that sort of thing. Still, it wouldn’t be easy. And they were both super sexy.

Fuck, I’d been dating twins. I’d been fucking both of them. A lot. And now that I knew it, my stupid libido decided that it was really, really hot. Even though I’d just pulled out after dumping a load in Dimitri, even though I was pissed about his deceit and recklessness….the idea began to grow that maybe I could have both of them. Just the thought of two guys that sexy fighting over me, then reconciling. Lazily kissing me, then each other, while I plowed them one after another….

Meanwhile, outside my sex haze, the brotherly conflict continued.

“I have every right to be pissed. What about consent? What about lies?”

“Technically, I only lied about being you. And about what was in the smoothie.”

“Oh, only those two fucking critical things, that’s all.”

“Nick, I know I shouldn’t have fucked around with him, but I mean, fucking look at him! Look at his body, all that brawn we both like, all nice and sculpted. And don’t tell me you don’t want more of that dick of his!”

For the first time, I saw Nicky crack a little.

“I like him for him, not just his body,” Nicky said.

“I like that part of him too. But that body, we helped make that body. We did that…together, even if we didn’t realize it,” Dimitri said. “You got him going to the gym, and got him out of his shell, and gave him confidence. You got him on the drug trial. All I did was magnify all that.”

I mean, he wasn’t wrong.

“Look, I know it wasn’t the right way to get here. But it’s done. We are here, and now my little plan is out in the open. If he wants me to leave, I get it. But I don’t want to and I don’t want you mad, and I don’t want Jeff to be mad. I’m sorry for that part, at least. But now it’s Jeff’s call what happens next, bro.”

Nicky said nothing for a minute, but both twins turned their gaze toward me. It was a nicely appreciative gaze and it was in danger of turning into a smolder. Then both of them turned their focus a little further south.

Damn, the beast was awake and rock-hard, looking for prey. Several inches poked out from above my boxers—I’d had to tuck up because my newly beefy legs took up all the leg space—and a glistening pearl was forming at the reddened tip.

I met their eyes. That look was hungry.

“Damn. We really did a number on you, didn’t we?”

“I think the only responsible thing,” Dimitri said, “would be to take responsibility for the problem we created.”

“That’s a pretty big problem,” Nicky replied.

“Possibly too big for one of us to tackle alone,” Dimitri purred, slowly reaching for my boxers. “Want some help, big guy?”

I did want some help. There was more than enough of me to go around.

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